


Communion

by perpetuallycaffeinated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Cutting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetuallycaffeinated/pseuds/perpetuallycaffeinated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean offers a part of himself to Castiel, for whatever he needs. Porn ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communion

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another short porn ficlet. I need to work on my actual chapter!fics...meh.

“OW! Fucking STOP it!”    
  
Dean thinks that secretly, Castiel is lying, because it seems like every time he calls the angel down when he’s in a bad mood, there  _just happens to be_  some sort of ritual that calls for human blood. Once again, the angel has decided that /asking/ first is out of the question, and Dean is sulking with a bleeding hand cradled in his uninjured arm.    
  
“I keep telling you, Dean, my blood will not work for this.” Castiel doesn’t even look up from his bowl as he works, detached and slightly disdainful. Dean stifles the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him.    
  
“Yeah, but Sammy’s human too, right? Why don’t you prick him?” He goads. Deep in his stomach, he’s got a sneaking suspicion that Castiel just feels more comfortable reaching for him than his younger brother. You make a body, he figures, you might forget you can’t just go touching it whenever you want to.    
  
However, he is Dean Winchester, so he does not talk about that possibility. He makes a joke about sex.    
  
“I’m beginning to think you like  _pricking_  me,” he scoffs, and thrusts his injured arm into Castiel’s view. It does the trick. Cas looks up from his angel mumbo-jumbo, the annoyance in his eyes intensified at this interruption.    
  
“Dean, this is /important/. I don’t have time for--”   
  
“You don’t even heal it after! You’re not even a freak, you don’t even have the decency to kiss it better!”   
  
Dean barely registers his brother rolling his eyes from the other side of the room; it’s too much fun to mess with the angel, even if there is a spell to be doing. It can wait another minute while Castiel fluffs his feathers.    
  
“You want me to kiss it?” Cas snaps. Dean should realize, should see that same uncomprehending tilt of the head the angel gets whenever he uses a colloquial phrase or movie reference, but he’s too busy goading him on.    
  
“Yeah, you gotta kiss a booboo, you frikkin--”   
  
There was a word after ‘boo-boo,’ but what only comes out is a choked sputter, because Castiel has firmly gripped Dean’s wounded arm and yanked it to his mouth. And because this just isn’t  _fucked up enough for Dean, thank you very much,_  he’s still glaring him as he presses his lips to the wound. Dean swears he can feel a hint of tongue as he drags a rough kiss over the gash. Before Dean can think of anything to say, Castiel has pulled back, and Sam sure as hell isn’t rolling his eyes  _now_ . Dean’s blood has tinged Castiel’s lips bright red, a sinful color that instinctively screamed of lust and animalistic sex to the hunter’s brain.    
  
“Kissing a wound--” Castiel growls, flicking his tongue out to catch a drop of blood still caught on the edge of his plump lips, “--has no effect on its rate of healing.”    
  
Dean already knew that. But it sure as hell has an effect on his dick.   
  
“You didn’t do it right,” he snorts. Castiel is angry, but not angry enough for Dean to back off. The fact that he’s half-hard isn’t helping the decision making process. Holding his hand back up, Dean is stupid and reckless and forward, shoving his forearm flush against Castiel’s mouth. The fact that it’s the same way he’d show off an erection to a partner does not escape him, and the problem in his pants becomes even more pressing.    
  
Castiel seems to be trying to smite him with looks alone, but he doesn’t move Dean’s hand out of the way. “I will not heal this, Dean,” he growls. Dean just cocks his head to the side, imitating Castiel’s confused look.    
  
“Why not, Cas?” Pushing, insisting, because his blood is warm and wet, and Cas’ mouth on an open wound has gone from humorous to intimate inside of his head.    
  
“Because you are  _infuriating_ .” Castiel replies. “And, if you do not allow me to finish this rite, I will have to cut you again. The blood’s power begins to fade as soon as it leaves the body.”    
  
“You _do_ like cutting me!” Dean snorts. Castiel is stiff and unresponsive as he tries to focus at his task, so it is far too easy when Dean wipes the wound across Cas’ face, leaving a smear of blood, bright and obscene.    
  
Finally, Castiel’s patience snaps. He makes no move to clean his face, or even speak to make his anger known. No, the way he shoves the table aside and slams Dean into the wall makes it clear enough.    
  
Sam, always the smart one, just picks up his laptop and leaves his brother to his own mess.    
  
“You asked me to kiss it. I kissed it, and you’re still shoving it at me,” Castiel hisses, shaking Dean by the collar. His eyes are wide, the tacky blood across his mouth only adding to what Dean realized was a violent, terrifyingly beautiful angel inches away from him.  With a sword _._  He decides, for once, shuts up.    
  
“Blood drinking--” Castiel continues, and  _whoa_  WHAT now? Dean’s eyes widen, but he remains silent. “ --is intimate, can be made perverse, as you are well aware. I will not take what you offer so lightly.”   
  
Dean didn’t know that some of his blood had actually entered Cas’ mouth, but there’s an odd noise in the back of the angel’s throat, and he /spits./ It’s a shockingly human gesture, and for a minute Dean doesn’t register an important detail: red. The angel’s saliva, mixed with blood, /his/ blood, spat back and rejected in his face. His brain is a mix of jumbled confusion, shock, guilt and lust, and-- _oh._   
  
Dean’s jaw drops, his mouth rounding into a small ‘o’ as the reason why Castiel is so affronted hits him.    
  
“....communion.”   
  
Dean feels Castiel shudder against him. Bingo.    
  
“Power does not merely go from nonhuman to human,” Castiel says, his voice somehow even lower, huskier than normal. “There is...something when blood is fed.”   
  
Dean’s the farthest thing away from Christian you can get without getting buddy-buddy with Satan, but he knows what’s tied in with the idea of communion. Sharing, connection, bonding on a deep level,  _sacrifice_ . Dean swallows, trying to force down the knot in his throat. ‘This is my body, broken for you;’ yet another bullet point to add to the list of how fucked up Dean’s relationship is with the spiritual.    
  
“If you’d ask,” he finally said, mumbling and tearing his eyes away from Castiel’s gaze, “I wouldn’t say no to giving you my blood. I mean, you need it...” He didn’t outright say it, but from the change in Castiel’s posture, Dean knew Castiel understood what the words really meant.  _I’ll give things to you, too. I’ll let you wound my body, consume me, because you’re important._   
  
The angel doesn’t move, even when Dean knows he’s got to feel his dick through all those ridiculous layers of cloth. Just as Castiel still has his face painted with a bloody baptism, Dean doesn’t bother wiping off the bloody spittle (come, the word comes unbidden to his mind) dripping down his face. Instead, he presses his wound to Castiel’s mouth for a third time. This time, it’s soft, a proper offering. Cas doesn’t push it away, but opens his mouth instead.    
  
Castiel doesn’t force this, Dean realizes, breath hitching in his throat, he only wants it if Dean knows exactly what he’s giving. And now that he does, Cas is almost shockingly shameless, mouth wide and eager against the open wound on Dean’s forearm.    
  
“Gonna have to --nh-- lop your head off when this is done?” Dean gasps, breath starting to get ragged. The strong suction on his arm isn’t going unnoticed by other parts of his body, and his dick twitches in his jeans as Castiel gives his head a turn, breaking the seal against his skin with a wet  _pop._   
  
“...Ah. Vampirism. Very droll, Dean.” Once Castiel is pleased that he does, in fact, get the reference, he reattaches himself to Dean’s arm. The hunter should be freaked out, but instead he finds himself grinding up against Castiel’s hip. Screw normal sex, this is what he wants, if he has to choose one way to get off for the rest of his life. The way Castiel clings to his arm, mouth open and needy against his skin is almost more stimulating than his tongue.    
  
Dean lets his head fall back against the wall, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Castiel’s head. It isn’t the same as a vampire’s feeding, not at all. Dean’s got the crazy idea that Cas’ drinking his blood not because he needs it in itself, but because it’s the best thing next to consuming, mingling with Dean’s soul. “ ‘s for you...” he mumbles, actual feelings tumbling out of his mouth in a moment of weakness. “You can have it. As much as you want, Cas...”    
  
Dean makes demands on Castiel. So, so many demands, and Castiel fulfills them all. Some of the time, what Dean wants from Cas leaves the angel exhausted and wounded, coughing up blood on the sidewalk. Or  _exploding._   
  
He’s glad to give a little now; it’s literally the least he can do.   
  
“I want--” Castiel’s gasp takes him by surprise, dragging Dean back to what’s happening. His hips have still been pistoning up against Cas this entire time, and he’s about ready to come in his pants. Castiel doesn’t look far behind as he catches Dean’s eyes. “I want--I want in.”    
  
Castiel dives back down into the wound, but this time it’s not just suction, he  _pushes_ , teeth digging in around the wound as Castiel thrusts his tongue into it. He’s literally trying to worm his way into Dean’s body, and while it should terrify or disgust him, what it does is make the hunter come in his pants. One hand jerks down and grabs Castiel by the crotch and /holy shit he’s hard too/ and Castiel is jerking up against the pressure, pretty blue eyes rolling in the back of his head in divine ecstasy as he joins Dean in orgasm.    
  
There’s no more talking, just sharp gasps as both men come down, shaking and leaning against each other for support. When he’s finally got the strength to move, Dean coaxes Cas into letting go of his wounded arm, giving a final anointment with his blood across the angel’s forehead. Castiel simply hums in response, slaked and sated from Dean’s offering.


End file.
